Circle Circle, Dot Dot
by natural-blue-26
Summary: "Rachel, admittedly, wasn't a fixer by nature; the girl definitely preferred to break things. On the other hand, her methods of anti-traditional comforting had their uses." Done for un love you's prompt 12 'I'm Drunk'


**Circle Circle Dot Dot**

**Prompt 12, 'I'm drunk'**

**o**O**O**O**o**

_A/N: Could be construed at being M/R, but I'm leaning with this being a short, what might have been -but definitely never was anything more- snap shot. I'm setting this mid-series; Marco knows Eva isn't dead, but Peter is still relapsing every so often pre-Nora. Since the entire theme of this set is essentially "I don't love you"/does not have to be about sex, I figured this prompt in particular could be made to fit these to people who love/hate/misunderstand bumping heads. _

_The tone of this changed a good five times while it was being written. :P_

_**Warnings: Teenage and adult drinking and a possible lack of humor.**_

**o**O**O**O**o**

_Circle, circle._

_Dot, dot._

_Now you got your cootie shot._

_Circle, circle._

_Square, square._

_Now you have it everywhere._

**o**O**O**O**o**

"It's like he's not even there some days still, you know. Even after he said he was working on it."

"He's here. Maybe forgets to remember it sometimes because your mom's too... Too much in the way of him seeing everything else? Pass the bottle."

**o**O**O**O**o**

Marco hadn't expected Rachel- of all people- to come and share the anniversary with him.

He hadn't even had any idea she _knew_ the date beyond a vague recollection of it being in the spring- Marco had missed most of the last month of school that year, after all. (Rachel had shown up at his house exactly three times during that time period- once to bring him a lunch box he had mistakenly left at school who's smell was evidently "threatening to have the school closed down as a toxic waste site," once with her mother to drop off a casserole of some kind, and once to shove a large stack of papers at him from their homeroom classroom Marco's father hadn't thought to pick up. Each time she looked down her nose at him- like he was even shorter than he actually was- but she came.)

In the darkened living room behind him, his father was watching home video after home video, fast-forwarding compulsively from one snippet of his wife to the next; old photo albums opened and discarded around his well-used Laz-e-boy. A fair share of empty bottles listed tipsily on either side; he had been firmly ensconced by the time Marco had quietly come downstairs for breakfast, and didn't seem in a great hurry to leave. Days like this, his father's yo-yo "recovery" seemed less and less likely to ever truly happen.

"So, are we going to linger in the doorway all day, or are you going to let me in?" Rachel, never much of one to respect other people's belongings, reservations, or personal space, leaned forward; she smelled like something vaguely fruity.

"If I say no, will you commence violating all trespassing laws on the books?" …It really wasn't like she didn't already know about his father's _issues_ as it was.

"If you say no, I will grab you by the ear, enter your home anyways and proceed to drag you up the stairs. Comprende?"

"Well then- in vested interest of the well-being of my wondrous self, you better bring your royal Xena-ness inside." He swept a mocking bow from the waist, and she brushed past him with a derisive snort.

"And don't you forget it, monkey boy."

**o**O**O**O**o**

In "normal" households, Marco supposed, he wouldn't have been allowed to bring a girl up to his room unsupervised.

Jake, for example, would never have obtained permission to bring Cassie up to his bedroom- not that Jake had it in himself to even _attempt_ to pull off a move like that without turning red, tripping over his feet up the stairs and nearly swallowing his tongue from nerves- - - assuming their fearless leader could even get himself together enough to invite Cassie over without having a crush-induced, nervous attack of some kind.

**o**O**O**O**o**

Rachel, admittedly, wasn't a fixer by nature; the girl definitely preferred to break things. On the other hand, her methods of anti-traditional comforting had their uses.

"What the _**hell **_do you think you're doing?"

"Shhhhhh. Gathering supplies. Your dad isn't going to miss one- and I'm doing his liver a favor by corrupting ours."

"Ours?"

"Yes, **ours**. My hawk boyfriend was tormented by a psycho who looks like my older doppelganger and refuses to discuss it with me, and your father is downstairs mourning you not-actually-dead mother. We are going to do both of us a favor and unwind in the only house we have access to where we are not going to be busted by either Yeerks or parents."

**o**O**O**O**o **

God knew his father wouldn't notice if Demi Moore sashayed through the living room into the kitchen and returned back up to Marco's bedroom wearing only a towel- just like he hadn't notice Rachel swiping the bottle of Jack. Marco leaned back against his headboard and scowled, thinking about it _dad unnoticed_ _mom war _until a carefully-shaped nail poked him sharply in the side.

"Hey. You. Enough with the serious slash angry face. Anger is my thing; stop pathetically attempting to steal my thunder, and be your annoying "funny" self again." Rachel was lying on her side facing him with her head cushioned on one curved arm. The other one hovered warningly near his left flank, ready to return and repeat the job if he didn't heave to and follow orders.

"Of course, your worship." He raised the decidedly less full bottle to his lips once again, shuddering at the fiery burn that caught and zinged down his throat to before burning down to his stomach. His lips were tingling too, and he wasn't sure if that was a sign he hadn't had enough or if it was one too many.

"If you're still thinking that hard about it, definitely not enough."

Marco was momentarily confused _likely due to the warm fuzz in his brain_ by Rachel becoming part of his inner musings.

"You know, when your internal monologue becomes an external one without you noticing, you might actually be totally losing it for real this time." Her lips curved in just enough of a smile to soften the sting of the words coming out of them, and Marco was overcome with the momentarily _insane_ urgent need to find out if her lips burned as much as his did. He restrained himself, convinced that the ass kicking that no doubt came as a reward for touching Rachel without her _express_ permission couldn't possibly be worth the short contact with her he could snag.

Or maybe it was.

Tobias certainly seemed to enjoy it.

**o**O**O**O**o**

"So, surely Bird Boy isn't dumb enough to make Taylor comparisons involving you."

"No, instead it's so much better that he refuses to even mention her and jumps every time I move unannounced when we're close together. Pass the bottle."

**o**O**O**O**o**

Rachel shifted to sit up next to him, running a hand up her _smooth tan_ leg to smooth an imaginary wrinkle out of her skirt.

"Not that I'm complaining, but isn't your mom going to notice if you come home wasted?"

Rachel shrugged one _shapely_ shoulder, and her hair slid _like gold silk_ over it.

"Not really. Jordan had a tournament all weekend, and I convinced the Chee that usually subs in for me that you were personally in need of extra supervision and psychological warm fuzzies today, so if anyone actually checks in on me, I'm in my room working on my history project."

Marco snorted. He also figured he should probably cut himself off soon if Rachel's hair was retaining his interest quite so much. Also, he just bumped himself in the nose with the bottle while trying to take his previous drink.

"And this Chee seriously thought **you** were the right choice to give someone emotional counseling? We should drop Erek an anonymous tip that it seriously needs debugged and reprogrammed. Possibly stripped and use for spare parts; it's probably in total melt down mode."

"Marco? As fascinating as you find yourself and your lack of witty repartee- please learn to shut up. I might let you live longer that way." He probably had deserved the retaliation for his previous remark, but _Jesus_ Rachel didn't need to pinch so hard.

**o**O**O**O**o **

"I got an A on my last report card. I have no idea when the last time I got an A on anything, and my dad didn't even notice. I also got an F on the same line up, and he didn't notice that either."

"Somehow, underneath all this riveting drama-queening, I sincerely doubt you actually wanted him to see that you flunked gym."

"...Pass the bottle back."

**o**O**O**O**o **

"I have a solution."

"We run away to Jamaica, change our names, and totally drop off reality's radar?"

"No, actually- my solution involves you, for once, not talking." Rachel rolled _closer_ onto her stomach and squinted at him in obviously mock concern before drawing a faux complicated series of circles and dots on her arm, humming an overused playground song under her breath. Once finished she turned the rest of the way into him- with perhaps less grace and balance than she would normally exhibit.

The room seemed a lot smaller, suddenly, with her in his personal space.

"You want me to kiss it and make it better?" She didn't give him a chance to argue before closing the distance momentarily and pressing her glossed lips to his; she drew away immediately after and rolled away from him to take another drag from the bottle's neck.

Behind her strawberry lip gloss, shopaholic, overeager, hardcore warrior princess Rachel tasted like sunshine, booze, and completely missed chances.

Damn.

Tobias was one lucky bird under all the feathers and woe-is-me mentality.

Bastard.

**o**O**O**O**o**

_Never written anything specifically from Marco's perspective before- comments and criticism please! Dialog is so totally not my usual thing. :headdesk:_


End file.
